The following article (by yours truly) appears in today's edition of the Malone Telegram...
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Our modern English word, “canonize,” comes from the ancient
Greek word, kanon, meaning, “a
measuring stick.” Since the early
days of Christianity, a “canon” has been a sort of sacred list—such as the
canon of Scripture: the authoritative inventory of books in the Bible by which
authentic Christian teaching can be measured. Likewise, to “canonize” a person is to single him or her out
for the official list of saints: the roll call of holy men and women against
whom Christians can reliably measure themselves.
I consider myself blessed to have been in Rome just one
month ago as the Catholic Church added seven more to its list.
None other than the New York Times (10/14/12) pointed out that this recent canonization brings to
12 the number of Catholic saints we can reasonably claim as American (although most
were born elsewhere, and a few died long before the U.S. ever came to be). And of that even dozen, we can champion
seven of them as New Yorkers, including two of those newly added to the list: St.
Kateri Tekakwitha and St. Marianne Cope.
Tekakwitha was born in the Iroquois village of Ossernenon
(now Auriesville) in 1656. (This
was just a few years after three Jesuit missionaries from France—also on that
list of U.S./N.Y. saints—were martyred nearby.) Smallpox left her orphaned at the age of four, as well as
severely scarred and almost blind.
(By many accounts, Tekakwitha translates, “she who bumps into
things.”) Having been adopted by a
Mohawk uncle, she encountered Jesuit missionaries as a teenager and eagerly
embraced Christianity. Despite the
objections of her uncle, she was baptized in 1676 and took the name Kateri
(“Catherine”). Harassed because of
her newfound faith and her persistent desire to live as a virgin united only to
Christ, Kateri moved north to a community of “praying Indians” outside of
Montréal (now Kahnawake).
There she continued to grow in holiness before her
young death from
fever in 1680.
Even in these very brief sketches of their lives, it’s
fairly easy to see why these two women have been included in the Church’s canon
of saints. But why did I go all
the way to Rome to see firsthand that they’d made the books?
Because these locals give me hope that I, too, might measure
up and find myself on the list.
No—I have no pretensions of ever being formally canonized by
the Pope in a solemn Vatican ceremony.
We New Yorkers, after all, are not generally celebrated for our outstanding
holiness. Yet with seven already
in the official register, and knowing that these are but a select few out of
the vast catalogue of those enjoying eternity in God’s presence, there is considerable
hope that we—whether city slicker or country bumpkin, native-born or transplant,
saintly now or still considering our options—might even eventually make the
cut.
While saintliness may be officially recognized of those
who’ve already made it to heaven, it’s a reality that’s first worked out right
here on earth in responding to God’s call and cooperating with his grace. For St. Kateri, that meant sticking
with her faith when others were less than supportive—even outright
hostile. For St. Marianne, that
meant going where she was most needed and standing up for those whom society
would sooner abandon. These two
women may have lived in other times, when New York was a far different place,
but the lessons we can draw from their lives are very much lessons for
today. That’s why they’re saints! Whenever and wherever, their lives
provide us with a dependable yardstick by which to measure our own.
May the example of these holy New Yorkers and their prayers
from above inspire us each day to live as those the Lord can list as his own.
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